nt in efforts to buy chocolate and apples,
hoisted aboard by campaign hats lowered on long strings from portholes,
from the boats sculled alongside by fantastically clad fishermen, girls,
small boys and old women. Or one might watch the German prisoners,
marked by a huge "P. G." stamped on the back of their uniforms, pushing
about the puny French freight cars on the docks. Or one might catch a
detail to unload freight, or stand guard on the dock.

Saturday afternoon, November 3, the regiment marched up through the city
and along the Boulevard de l'Ocean, St. Nazaire's Riverside Drive. Then
we remarked what we later became used to seeing, that the women seemed
almost all to wear black, and practically every man was in a uniform.

The following afternoon, leave was given to visit the town. Hotels,
restaurants and pastry shops did a rushing business, as did also the old
women who kept the stands in the market square, selling postcards,
souvenirs and all manner of trinkets. But the time spent ashore was not
long, for we were called back to unload the ship that night, and marched
out next day, our packs upon our backs, to a camp a short distance from
the city.

At that camp we felt first that economical parsimony which the Old World
must practice, in contrast to the extravagant abundance of our own land.
The scanty wood allowance made the cooks suddenly mindful of the last
stray splinters. Wash water was available only at certain specified
times, and a squad of men must be gathered for a bath, in order that the
water from the showers should not be wasted. No wonder, thought we,
that the Frenchman drinks his eternal "vin rouge," if water is so
scarce.

But our stay at St. Nazaire was not long. There were a few days of
diverse details, such as shifting boxes and equipment on the docks,
leveling the drill grounds, and excavating for the big reservoir that
was later to furnish the water supply for the camp. Saturday night the
Second Battalion marched out of camp shortly after midnight, and boarded
a train for the short ride northward to the town of Guer, in the
department of Morbihan. That we were not full-fledged soldiers was
evidenced by the fact that we made the trip in third-class passenger
coaches and not in the box-cars which were ever afterwards to be our
mode of transportation in France. But the stops were as frequent as they
were in our later train rides, and it was not until the middle of the
afternoon, Sunday, Nov